Sinister Attraction
by moriartys-majesty
Summary: Moriarty gives John a proposition that he simply can't refuse.
1. Chapter 1

_**takes place between the great game and scandal in belgravia**_

John was getting more than a little fed up at Mycroft's antics. He felt like a child being summoned every time he saw that sleek black car pull up beside him. John also knew that there would be no point in resisting Mycroft's little game. The one time John refused, Mycroft sent three men to 221B to collect him. John managed to break the largest man's nose and get one of the others on the ground, but in the end john was brought in front of Mycroft with drying blood on the front of his shirt, out of breath and pissed as hell. John threw some choice words at the man, but Mycroft brushed them off and told him that when he needed to talk to John, he would, it was entirely up to him how easy or difficult it was. After that, John always got into the car when it appeared, if not with a bitter resentment. So when the black car pulled up beside him during an evening walk he didn't question it.

John got in the darkly tinted car with a huff. He noticed that Mycroft's usual assistant "Anthea" wasn't present. He sat in the backseat alone, watching the busy streets pass by. He thought of what Mycroft could possibly want this time. Probably just wanting an update on Sherlock. Nosy bastard. John knew that Mycroft could get the information he wanted from other sources besides John, but it seemed that Mycroft took a twisted delight in making John aggravated. The car eventually pulled up beside an abandoned printing press. The sun was almost completely set, casting the weathered brick building in a strange light that made it seem sinister and forlorn. He pushed his sleeve up to look at the time. They had been driving for about thirty minutes. They were in the outskirts of the bustling city. John got out of the car, shutting the door with a click that seemed to be the only noise. The buildings around them seemed equally out of use.

John pulled his coat to him and went into the building. the room he entered was completely black, save for a flickering light coming from the other room. The stale air was punctuated by the smell of something burning. John fought back a tickle in his throat and made his way towards the light. He could hear faint music and the crackling of a fire.

"Your standards for meeting places are getting quite low, mate." John said, his footsteps muffled by scattered paper on the ground. He opened the partially cracked door to the next room and saw two overstuffed chairs facing away from him. Between the chairs was a small fire, crackling merrily on the ground. There were windows along the far wall, most with their glass littering the floor. the rest of the narrow room was occupied by dusty machinery, whose shadows danced on the walls, looking like twisted malevolent monsters. John made his way to the highbacked chairs, but before he sat down he noticed with a start that the man on the opposite side of the small fire wasn't Mycroft.

"No." John breathed, taking a step back from the man. He snapped his head around, trying to evaluate just how much trouble he was in. John couldn't see anyone other than the man in front of him, but he knew there were more people here.

"what's the matter, Johnny boy?" The man across from him said, the fire flickering playfully in his wide brown eyes. John tried to mask the shock on his face. Moriarty sat with his elbows resting on both arms of the chair, his fingers steepled in front of himself. His phone was on his thigh, playing a bit of classical music that John had heard before. John glared at him, knowing that he wouldn't be able to leave the building until Moriarty was ready for him to. That is, of course, if Moriarty did intend for John to ever leave.

"Well now that you've gotten an eyeful how about taking a seat?" Moriarty said with friendly sarcasm. John had little other choice. He sat down, keeping his eyes fixed on the consulting criminal. Jim hummed along softly with the tune, reaching down and turning off the music. He continued to hum the song, finishing the last few notes.

"Bach's partita number one." Moriarty sighed. "music at it's finest."

John's stomach was in a knot, his heart beating fast. Whatever Moriarty was playing at, John wanted to know, not sit here and make casual banter.

"Why am I here?"

Jim's eyebrows went up. "Because I need to talk to you. I thought that much was obvious."

John gave Moriarty a tight smile.

"So impatient!" Jim laughed. "You've got nothing to go rushing home to. Sherlock's in one of his _moods_, isn't he?" John must have looked visibly struck by that because Moriarty laughed again. "Oh come on, John my dear, did you honestly believe that someone as dedicated as myself didn't keep an eye on my favorite crime fighting duo?"

John gritted his teeth together and kept silent. Jim gave a wide smile and leaned forward. The fire made his face into a shadowed caricature of itself. "What's the matter, Johnny boy? don't like the invasion of privacy?" John started to feel uneasy. Moriarty read this clearly on his face. His smiled grew wider and his eyes sparkled mischievously. "Let's just say that I know your activities quite well. You definitely know how to keep an audience entertained." John could feel the blood rush to his face. His mind couldn't help but go to a few days ago when Sherlock went out…

Moriarty threw his head back in a laugh that echoed through the room. "Oh John, you look as if you might faint!" He shook his head in good humor and gave John a wink. "It's okay, darling. Your secret is safe with me." Suddenly Jim's face went grave, all the laughter and good cheer gone in an instant. They sat like that for awhile, Jim looking into the fire, John watching him nervously, not daring to break the silence. Eventually Moriarty looked at him with a bit of a start, as if he'd forgotten that he had company.

"Well to get to the point, my dear fellow, I have a bit of a proposition for you."

John swallowed. "I'm listening."

Moriarty steepled his fingers together again and leaned back in the chair, his eyes never leaving John. "You know what I am capable of. I could make one little phonecall and the world as you know it would end…but that same phonecall could also be what keeps your life as it is now." Jim let that sink in. John had no idea what Moriarty was trying to say and why it involved John. Jim shifted in his chair slightly. "John, I am going to make a phonecall, and it's entirely up to you what happens after it."

"And what phonecall is that?"

The smile returned to Moriarty as he explained. "I am going to send Sherlock away. He will be solving some little crime that I'll stage for him. He'll be gone for four days. Each of those days, you will come to me and do as I say. Simple enough, really."

"And if I don't?"

Moriarty gave John a face that said they both knew just exactly what was going to happen. "Well, Johnny boy, if you decide to blow me off, the little trip Sherlock is going on might not be so..._fun_." Jim said this in a sing-song way as if threatening John's best friend was some sort of a game. The fire was down to only the embers now. The room seemed almost unbearably sinister, but it couldn't compare to the man across from him. John sighed, knowing that there was no way out of this. He would do anything for Sherlock, and Jim knew that.

Moriarty rose from his chair. "He'll be leaving tomorrow morning. I'll send someone to get you." Jim made his way towards the exit. John continued to sit, his heart hammering in his chest and a icy hate filled his being, accentuated by a mad panic that caused his chest to hitch.

"Oh, and one last thing, John." Moriarty called from behind him, his voice echoing in the room. "Wear those red pants you've got."

And with that, Jim left.


	2. Chapter 2

When John got home Sherlock was in the same place as when he'd left. Stretched out on the sofa with his hands on his stomach, his eyes zooming around under his closed eyelids. Someone might mistake him as being asleep, but John knew that his brain was busily picking apart something. John didn't bother announcing his arrival because either way Sherlock wouldn't acknowledge him. Not when he was in one of his moods. He stood there in the doorway for a few minutes, looking at the man he was willing to do anything for. John felt viciously protective over the lean dark headed man who stayed up for days, hardly talking, hardly eating, plucking vacantly at his violin or playing a skillful concierto. John wondered what would happen if he told Sherlock of his little meeting with Moriarty. John suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of being watched. He knew somewhere 221B was being displayed on a screen, his and Sherlocks every move monitored. He felt incredibly vulnerable and exposed, like a specimen under a microscope. If he were to tell Sherlock, anything could happen. John was completely out of control of the situation. He suddenly felt tired, just the simple task of standing up seeming almost impossible. He went straight to his room and without brushing his teeth, without taking off his shoes, he went to bed.

Someone was moving around in the flat. John kept his eyes closed and rolled over in bed. The previous days events suddenly flooded his mind and he sat up with a gasp. John threw the blanket off of himself and rushed through the flat to Sherlocks room. Sherlock was more animated than he had been in days. He was zooming around the room, throwing things into a black traveling case. He was already dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a white button-up, his hair it's usual disheveled self. Sherlock noticed John in the doorway but continued to pull shirts from their hangers in his closet. "I have to be off within the next twenty minutes." He said, shoving the garments into the black case.

"What for?" John said, his heart sinking at the sight of how well Moriarty's plan was working.

"Just got a call from Germany. Serial murderer, already killed eleven, promised to kill one person every 12 hours if not caught, left behind a trail of riddles, just the thing I've been needing to rescue me from the petty crimes that have been flooding your blog."

"So I guess I'll go pack a bag..." John said feebly, playing his part in Sherlock's deception, but at the same time hoping Sherlock would tell him to hurry up and to stop wasting time talking, and John would go to Germany with Sherlock, standing around while Sherlock unraveled the mystery, and that Moriarty had never bothered him at all and things could be as simple as they seemed.

"No need to, I'm going alone." Sherlock replied, unknowingly crushing Watson's disillusioned hope. He pushed the contents of his case down and zipped it up. "They only reserved one ticket on a packed flight. You could catch another one, but honestly, I'm sure the killer isn't as clever as he thinks he is. By the time you get on the plane, I might already be on my way back. And besides, you don't know how to speak German."

John moved out of the doorway to let Sherlock through. He tossed his case onto the couch and started to tie his scarf around his neck. He glanced over at John and must have read despair on his face.

"I won't be gone long, John."

John pulled a smile and managed to maintain a steady voice as he said "Yeah, just be careful, you know? Lots of wack jobs out and about."

Sherlock laughed as he slipped on his coat and grabbed his traveling case "Oh John, if I avoided all the "wack jobs" as you call them, life wouldn't be very fun at all." and with those words, He was down the stairs. On shaky legs, John went to the window and watched as Sherlock hailed a taxi. He watched as he got in, and he watched as it drove away. And when it was gone, John continued to watch, hoping that his friend would return unharmed.

A few minutes went by. John was about to leave the window when a sleek black car pulled up in front of the building. So soon? John looked down at himself and saw that he was in the same outfit he wore yesterday, rumpled from sleeping. He kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt as he headed towards his room.

There was a knock on the door as John was putting on his trousers. "Just a minute." He said, fastening them and heading to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth quickly and splashed some water on his face. He looked at his face in the mirror and sighed. Whatever Moriarty intended to do, John was sure it wasn't going to be to his liking.

When John was ready, he opened the door and was greeted by two men, both in dark navy suits. They led the way down the stairs and into the car. One of the men opened the car door and got in. When The other man made a gesture for John to get in. He complied. When the three of them were situated, the man on his right held up a long black strip of cloth. John gave a startled laugh and shook his head.

"No. I refuse."

The man stared at him. John could see that they weren't going anywhere until he put it on. He huffed and closed his eyes. The man quickly tied the blindfold around him. He heard as one of the men knocked on the glass separating the cab from the backseat. The car smoothly pulled out from the front of the building and started it's way to wherever their destination was.

John tried to memorize all the turns and stops, but soon it all got jumbled and he sat in darkness, cursing himself for not being able to do it, thinking how Sherlock would have been able to pinpoint the exact location with ease.

He was led into a building, the men having a firm grasp on his upper arms. He heard some people talking, but it was too faint to make out anything specific. His shoes clicked on the ground. The two men stopped, and he did the same. After a few seconds a_ ding_ startled him and he could hear the sound of lift doors opening. They stepped inside. After a brief pause the lift lurched up, causing John's already unsettled stomach to do a flip. The lift opened with another _ding_ and John was escorted about twenty steps before they stopped again. One of the men knocked three times, a brief pause between the second and third. John heard the clicking of a lock coming undone and the sound of an opening door. They stepped in and the door was shut swiftly behind them. The men led him a few paces before guiding him to a seat. The blindfold was removed.

John expected to be blinded but the room he was in was dim. He blinked a few times until his eyes were fully adjusted. Moriarty sat in front of him, two feet away in a cozy overstuffed armchair. The door shut again. John looked over and saw that the two men had left. He turned his gaze back to Moriarty in his pale grey suit, a slight smile playing on his lips. His hands rested comfortably in his lap. John looked around the room. It appeared to be a hotel. A king sized bed covered in a rich red blanket was against the wall with a cherry wood night stand nearby. A large photograph of an orchid adorned the wall. besides the two chairs, these were the only things in the room. There were no windows.

"So nice of you to join me." Jim said in a friendly voice, gesturing to the room. "Hope the accommodations are to your liking."

John said nothing. Jim gave a breathy laugh.

"Ah, still playing defiant, are we?"

John fixed his gaze on the nightstand and didn't respond.

"Now John, I don't want to have to remind you about our little deal, do I?" Jim leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "You do as I say, and Sherlock's trip goes smoothly. Understand?"

John nodded.

Moriarty stared at him for a few moments before seeming satisfied. He leaned back licked his bottom lip.

"Stand."

John did as he was told, still refusing to meet Moriarty's eyes.

"Undress."

John could feel his face getting red. His arms felt heavy as he shook his coat off. He tossed it to the side. He removed his striped sweater and threw it on top of his jacket. He already felt incredibly exposed with his torso bared. He hesitated with his trousers.

"Come on Johnny boy, nothing to be shy about." Moriarty said, his voice barely a whisper.

John glanced at him. His brown eyes, appearing black in the dim light, were hungrily inching over his bare chest.

John unfastened the button and quickly stepped out of his trousers, putting them on top of his other clothes. Moriarty gave a pleased laugh.

"You wore them! I didn't know if you were going to be stubborn about that or not." His eyes ventured up to John's. "Red really suits you, you know."

John fixed his eyes on the night table again, feeling his face get even more red. His hand started to pull at the band of his underwear.

"You can leave those on, dear." Jim purred, taking in the sight before him.

John's hand went to his side. He stood straight, trying to maintain his dignity while trying his hardest not think of this ridiculous situation. After a few moments he risked another look at Moriarty. His eyes were now traveling slowly up and down John's thighs, lingering on his red pants. John noticed that Moriarty clearly had an erection. John's body suddenly went numb. Seeing how much Moriarty was enjoying this, seeing how much the sight of him naked pleased the twisted man-

This excited him. He could feel his cock stiffening. John clenched his hands and tried to think of something, anything. This man tried to kill him once. Even worse, this man tried to kill his_ best friend_. This man was not someone to be sexually interested by.

"Glad I'm not the only one having some fun" Jim said with clear amusement at John's arousal. "Now, my dear, I want you to pull those down far enough so I can see it."

Hearing Moriarty ask him so casually to see his cock made it stiffen more, almost to its full potential. John pulled the waistband down, exposing himself.

Moriarty licked his bottom lip again and adjusted himself in the chair.

"I was honestly expecting you to put up a fight, Johnny boy, but it seems you are enjoying this.._.immensely_." He ran his hand through his dark hair. "Who would have guessed that John Watson was such a little slut?"

John didn't respond. How was he supposed to respond? He was just as surprised as Moriarty.

"Now I want you to stroke yourself."

He hesitantly grabbed the base of his swollen cock and rubbed it. He gasped involuntarily, quickly looking at Jim. His lips were parted, his wide eyes watching John's hand slowly work it's way to the tip.

John looked away quickly, but his hand sped up nonetheless. His mind was suddenly enveloped with thoughts of Moriarty's soft lips teasing the head of his cock, his manicured hands stroking and grabbing and bringing him to the brink-

John gave a soft moan. A bead of precome gathered at his head. John's hand went faster. He was already so close. This was insane, he was already about to come, like a teenage schoolboy. He tried to stop, but his orgasm was building at an alarming rate.

"Look at me." purred Jim, his voice dark with desire.

John met the man's eyes. His hand was now at a frantic pace. John imagined what it would be like to see those dark eyes peering at him between his thighs, those eyes urging him to come, to lose control, to be_ his_.

John's eyes rolled in the back of his head as he hit orgasm, his hand continuing to move as his cock slickened with his come. He closed his eyes as he started to come down, his thoughts becoming rational and his breathing returning to normal. He opened them once he was under control. He stood awkwardly in front of Jim, his cock softening, semen at his feet. Jim's eyes seemed glazed over. John noticed that he still had a full erection, straining in his pale grey slacks. He swallowed and gave John a small smile.

"Get dressed. You are dismissed."

With that he steepled his fingers together and said nothing else, staring into space. John tucked his now flaccid penis into his pants and picked up his clothes. He got dressed quickly. He gave Jim one last look, but the man was in his own thoughts. He opened the door. It only went a few inches before someone on the other side shut it. A voice floated from the other side.

"Face away from the door." John turned around. The door was opened and the blindfold put into place.

On the car ride home, John's thoughts were dark and confused ones.


	3. Chapter 3

John felt disgusted with himself. He kept on replaying the previous day's events over and over and every time he felt more hollow and ashamed. He told himself that he did what he had to, it was for Sherlock, damnit, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was how much he had liked it. Loved it, in fact. Moriarty was a terrible man. He killed innocent people just to have something to do. He was unstable, he was dangerous, but worst of all, he had a deadly magnetism. John had spent all night tossing and turning, his head full of self hatred and dark longing. When the sun rose, John went about his morning routine as normally as he could. When the knock came at the door, he was ready to face whatever was ahead.

The blindfold was removed. Moriarty sat in front of him in a trim black suit. The men left the room as before. They sat in silence, Moriarty looking at John, John looking at anything but Moriarty. Finally Jim spoke.

"Your beloved Sherlock is quite a handful. He just about caught the killer this morning. I of course put a stop to the confrontation."

John's eyes snapped to Moriarty. He laughed and added "Oh, calm yourself, my dear John. Sherlock is fine, fine. I just threw him off the scent." John sighed in relief and relaxed his body, which had been tensed to throttle the man in front of him. Moriarty looked him over. "You are dangerously loyal, you know. I'd watch it, John. It could be the death of you one day."

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand." John said quietly.

It happened so fast and so unexpectedly that John didn't have time to react. Moriarty shot from his chair and grabbed John by the hair. The other hand grabbed him firmly by the neck. His eyes bore into him like a fire, their faces so close that John could smell spearmint chewing gum on Moriarty's breath.

"How _dare_ you." He said with so much hatred that John couldn't help but flinch back. "I've experienced more pain than you could ever imagine. You have no idea what I've done, what I've had to do." His breath was ragged now. "How..._dare_ you think you understand me."

And as fast as it happened, Jim removed himself from John, His back turned from him. John realized that he had been holding his breath. He exhaled and watched the man in front of him carefully. Moriarty turned his neck to the side to crack it. He spun around with a smile on his face, all traces of the his twisted rage gone. John could hardly believe how quick this man could change. He was like the weather. He could be peaceful and cheery, but in the blink of an eye a storm could erupt. Moriarty was both beautiful and terrible.

Moriarty rubbed his hands together. "So, my lovely John, I have something fun planned today." He motioned towards the bed. "Get undressed and lay down."

John stood up and stripped. Moriarty went to the side of the bed and sat down. John went to the opposite side and stretched out on his back. He laid there stiff on the thick red blanket, scared of what Moriarty was going to do to him. He was completely vulnerable to this mad man. Moriarty adjusted himself on the bed so that he was on his side, his arm supporting his head. The other hand was flat on the bed, inches from John.

"Today, I'm going to make you come without any physical touch." Moriarty purred.

John could feel a warmth spreading in his body at those words.

"Your breathing just sped up." Moriarty gave a small laugh."You want this so bad, don't you?"

John could feel his cock stiffening. He thought of fighting it, but what was the point? This is what Moriarty wanted.

"I asked you a question, Johnny boy." Jim leaned closer and whispered into John's ear "You want this, don't you?"

The feeling of Jim's hot breath in his ear caused his arms to break out in cold chills.

"Yes." He managed, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Good." Moriarty smiled. "You and Sherlock are so much fun to watch, you know. Never a dull moment in 221b."

John could feel himself blushing. His erection was at half of it's potential now. John was shocked at how much of an effect Jim had on him. A few words spoken in that soft crisp voice made him melt.

"You are particular fun to watch when Sherlock isn't home. When you sneak into his room..." Jim's long index finger traced small circles on the cool fabric of the bed. "...and you rummage in the back of his drawers for that black thong he has. He looks great in it, you know. Absolutely marvelous." Moriarty sighed. "And you look marvelous with it wrapped around your cock."

John gave a small gasp, the words sending a pulsing heat through his cock.

"What do you think Sherlock would do if he found out?" Jim teased darkly. "Do you think he'd put them on for you?"

John pictured Sherlock in the black satin panties, his swollen cock pushing against the thin fabric. He imagined what it would be like to suck the head through the material, hearing Sherlock make small pleading noises.

"Fuck" He moaned, his hand moving towards his fully erect cock.

"John." Moriarty warned.

His hand dropped down to the bed again.

"Patience, love."

Moriarty shifted his body a little closer.

"Do you know about the little box he has in his closet, John?"

He swallowed and shook his head. a mischievous smile spread across Moriarty's face.

"When you two get into an argument, he'll slam his door and pace back and forth like a caged tiger. Eventually he'll open his closet and get the thing that's in that little box. Do you know what that thing is, Johnny boy?"

He shook his head again.

"It's a baby blue dildo, my dear. He'll strip down to nothing and crawl onto his bed. He doesn't use lubricant. your beloved Sherlock prefers to moisten it with his mouth."

John's heart was racing, thinking of Sherlock's tongue dancing it's way up the blue dildo.

"And when he's ready, he gets on his knees, spreading them just enough."

John's hands clenched the sheets at his sides. Jim's dark eyes flashed, a hungry need written on his face.

"He never locks the door. I think he _wants_ you to catch him." Moriarty leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of John's ear. "What would you do if you caught him, John?" He purred.

"I-" John's voice trembled, "...I would kiss him."

Moriarty gave a soft chuckle in John's ear that made his cock ache.

"Surely you can do better than that."

John took a shuddering breath. "I would have him suck my fingers so that I could slide them into him-"

John's hips rose off of the bed slightly.

"And I'd use my other hand to stroke him. Oh _fuck_."

A bead of precome glistened at the head of John's cock.

"I think Sherlock would like that." Jim whispered hotly into John's shoulder. "You know, sometimes he moans your name when he comes. It's gorgeous to see the great Sherlock Holmes lose control, to be so helpless and vulnerable, so _desperate_...and know it's because of you."

John moaned softly, his fists tightening in the sheets.

"Please..." He managed, his eyes shut, his breathing rapid. "please Jim."

Moriarty licked his bottom lip before continuing.

"What would he think of you right now? His beloved John, at the mercy of his enemy, begging for release?"

John's hips went up slightly again, causing the bead of precome to roll delicately down his engorged cock.

"Jim-" He moaned, his head leaning into the pillow. His hips bucked and his back arched off of the bed. He gave a shuddering gasp as come ran down his cock, pooling on his stomach. Jim watched with deep fascination.

Soon John started coming down from his orgasm. His body went limp on the bed. He could feel his heartbeat slowing. They laid there in silence.

Moriarty rolled onto his back and placed an arm over his eyes. John turned his head to him. His eyes inched their way over the man's body, still fully clothed. He lingered on Jim's erection, which still strained against his thigh. John cleared his throat.

"Would you, um, like me to help you with that?" Jim lifted his arm and looked at John questioningly. John moved his head in the direction of Moriarty's swollen cock. A look of embarrassment (and was that perhaps shock?) crossed his face but was quickly gone, a mask of indifference replacing it.

"Oh, no, Johnny boy. You've had your fun for the day."

He placed his arm back over his eyes.

"You are dismissed."

John looked down at the mess on his stomach. Upon looking to his side, he saw a box of tissues on the night stand. He quickly cleaned himself up and got off the bed, trying to not disturb Moriarty, who seemed to be in a trance. John Watson got dressed and knocked on the door.

He couldn't help but give the dark man on the bed one last glance before he was taken away.


	4. Chapter 4

He was more than a little anxious to meet with Moriarty again. The previous night John had went into Sherlock's closet and found the box Jim had spoken about. He had stared at it for a few moments before putting it back in it's place with numb fingers, going straight to the bathroom and taking a hot shower. John wanked thinking of Sherlock using that dildo on himself, how he would do it in the other room... and then his thoughts were diluted with Moriarty's dark eyes, the feeling of the mad man's hot breath on his neck. John tried to push these thoughts away and focus on Sherlock, but it seemed his mind wanted to think of other things. Like what it would be like to see Sherlock on his knees in front of Moriarty. To see Moriarty biting into Sherlock's pale flesh. When John reached orgasm he shut off the water, dried quickly and went to his room. His phone vibrated on the bedside table as John settled into bed. He opened the message.

good night

Jim x

And now that it was morning, John had gotten dressed and had been sitting patiently by the window, waiting to see the black car pull up in front of the building.

When the blindfold was removed, John noticed how disheveled Moriarty looked, the one who was always so clean, precise, manicured. His hair wasn't combed back. it laid in a messy halo around Moriarty's head. Stubble was visible. His suit jacket was off, his tie loosened, shirt untucked. He sat open legged and slouched in his chair, his hand loosely wrapped around a glass of bourbon that rested on the arm of the chair. His eyes, usually flashing with dark mischief, were downcast. They unsteadily rose to Johns. John felt silly for feeling a twinge in his heart at the sight of the obviously troubled man. He hesitated before asking tentatively

"Is everything all right?"

Jim snorted. "I don't need your _sympathy_. Save it for someone who cares about such nonsensities." He drained his glass. He placed the cool glass against his forehead and added in a quieter voice "Save it for someone who deserves it."

"Sorry." John replied, not being completely sure if he was apologizing or offering more condolences to the clearly drunk man.

"Oh shut your mouth John." Moriarty said exasperated, setting the glass down. "On second thought, come over here and put your mouth to better use."

Jim unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers. His hips rose up far enough from the chair to pull them down slightly, just enough to pull out his flaccid cock. John paused briefly before getting out of his chair and crossing the short distance between them. He was nervous. He'd never done this before. He'd only just recently realized he was in love with Sherlock Holmes. John had never touched a man intimately before, much less give someone a blowjob. He went slowly to his knees, settling between Moriarty's open legs. His heart was thundering as his hand went to Jim's pale exposed flesh. John felt a rush of excitement as his hand wrapped around Jim's warm cock and he felt it become more firm. the man leaned his head back and exhaled. John's hand moved slowly, feeling the delicate rise of the veins. He stroked until Moriarty was completely stiff. John leaned his head forward and gingerly licked at the opening of Jim's cock. He made a small noise of approval. John was completely hard himself, and the encouragement of Moriarty made him slowly wrap his mouth around the head. John looked up at Jim, who's head was still leaned back. John sucked softly, and felt immense pleasure when Jim gave a small moan and his adam's apple moved. John worked his mouth down, his tongue sliding and flicking. He did this with great concentration, trying hard to make Jim react. John's hand went to Moriarty's balls and started to tug softly, kneading and caressing The muscles in Jim's thighs tightened at the new feeling. Jim's hand went to John's hair, gently guiding him. John's free hand went to rubbing his own aching erection through the material of his pants. He moan around Jim's cock. In response, Jim's hips bucked slightly, sliding more of himself into John's moist mouth.

"I've wanted this for so long, so long..." Jim mumbled, pushing John's head down further. "Faster." John picked his speed up. Moriarty moaned again, his hand pressing harder on the back of John's head. John tried to keep with the frantic pace Jim wanted to keep.

Jim's hand left his hair and went to John's jumper. He pulled him away from his aching erection and forced john up. Jim leaned forward and kissed John with a fierce urgency that surprised him. John's lips parted so Moriarty's silk tongue could explore his mouth. John could taste the strong bourbon Jim had been drowning his thoughts in. Moriarty caught John's bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, pulling softly. John gasped at the small pain.

"Oh John..." Moriarty whispered when he released his lip. "you can't imagine the things I want to do to you."

Jim went to his neck and bit into the sensitive skin. John let out a small moan.

Moriarty stood up and yanked John up with him. Jim grabbed John's jumper and undershirt and yanked them up and over his head, throwing them to the side. Jim's lips met John's again, briefly. John slid off his shoes as Jim deftly unfastened his trousers. Soon, John was completely naked, his cock achingly stiff before him. Jim grabbed him by the wrist and led him to the bed.

"Bend over the edge." He commanded darkly.

John did as he was told, feeling a touch of panic. He didn't know if he was ready for this. Would it hurt? Would he like it? He waited nervously as he heard the small jingle of Jim's belt buckle.

_thwack! _

Suddenly, his upper thighs were singing with a stinging hot pain. He cried out in surprise and turned his head. Jim stood behind him, holding his belt. An animalistic lust was shining in his eyes.

"Jim-" he said, rising slightly from his bent position.

Jim's hand was on the back of his neck in a heartbeat, pushing his head into the mattress. His warm body was pressed against John's bare body. After a few seconds, he let him go and backed away. The message was clear: Don't move.

John kept his position, his body tensing for the next blow, his hands grabbing fists of the sheet.

_thwack!_

The belt hit his arse, wrapping around his hip. John flinched as the next one hit in the same place as the first.

_thwack!..._

_ thwack!..._

_thwack!_

John's arse and thighs felt hot and raw. He could feel tears burning in the corners of his eyes, which was expected. What wasn't expected was the heat he could feel in his loins. Each lash sent an intense shock through his body, leaving him quivering and desperate. With each smack of the belt, John would flinch forward, the cool material of the bedding rubbing against his throbbing erection. It hurt so much... but he _liked_ it.

_thwack! _ Jim hit his arse again, this time with a little more force. John made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a moan. John could hear Moriarty's ragged breathing behind him.

He heard a soft jingling thud as Moriarty let the belt fall to the floor. He came up behind John and ran his cool, soft hand over the angry red flesh. John shuddered at the sensation.

Jim removed his hand and stepped back. John could hear the rustling of clothes. Jim's hand was back on him, this time on his shoulder, pulling him up.

John stood straight, noting the shakiness of his knees. Jim turned him quickly and John noticed that Jim was completely nude before he locked him into another needy kiss. Jim's hand went to John's hair, tugging it roughly. The other traveled down his back, stopping at his burning arse. His nails bit into the raw skin. John gasped into Jim's mouth.

Jim pulled him closer. Their bodies pressed tightly against each other. Their aching cocks were trapped between their stomachs, a feeling John had never experienced. It was almost enough to bring him over the edge. Jim bit his lip again, this time more roughly. John could feel his lip swelling. John's hand went to the back of Moriarty's neck. The free hand went to Jim's chest. He ran his hand over the smooth hot skin, his thumb going over Jim's small hard nipple.

Jim led him backwards a few steps until they fell onto the bed. Moriarty kissed him quickly before propping himself up with his arm. His other arm went between them. Jim grabbed both of their erections and started stroking them at a frenzied pace.

"Jim-" John moaned, His hand finding Moriarty's hair and tangling itself into the black mess. "Oh _fuck_, Jim."

His hand worked faster, gripping harder. Jim's hips rocked with the strokes. John looked up at Jim, who's dark eyes were hungrily watching him. When their eyes connected Moriarty moaned and his eyes rolled upwards. His body stiffened as his hand kept the pace. Hot come fell on John's stomach. Their cocks were slickened with Moriarty's ejaculate. The look of desperate pleasure on Jim's face, feeling his come being rubbed onto his cock, John only lasted a few seconds after him.

Jim's hand kept rubbing until both of them had finished, and their cocks started to soften. Jim rolled off of John. He laid on the bed, facing away from John. His legs came up near his chest.

"Go." He said quietly.

John hesitated.

"Go!" Jim said with more force, still facing away.

John got up and quickly put on his trousers. He was shocked, confused and a little hurt at the sudden venom from Moriarty. He couldn't help but feel like a dirty slut.

His stomach was still sticky with come, but he didn't dare walk past Jim to grab a tissue. He pulled his shirt on and went to the door.

This time, he didn't bother to look at the troubled man before he was taken away.


	5. Chapter 5

Moriarty looked somber in his chair, his hands folded lightly in his lap. Jim's eyes followed the two men as they left the room. When the door shut with a small click he exhaled. John watched him carefully. Moriarty's eyes were moving back and forth in small, quick movements. He seemed to be debating something with himself. When his eyes finally met with John's, it seemed that he had made a decision.

"I was a bit out of sorts yesterday." He said casually. John got the feeling that this was Jim's way of apologizing. He continued.

"I told myself, before all of this started, to look but not touch… but then again I've never been one to follow rules very well." Jim's eyes flickered to John's bottom lip, which was swollen and bruised. Jim rubbed the side of his face with his hand. He fell into silence, looking at nothing. The minutes stretched out. Jim broke the silence.

"Sherlock is on his way back right now. He'll be home in four hours." John could feel a thread of stress, which had been constantly present since this ordeal began, start to dissipate. Sherlock was coming home. He was alright. Everything was going to be okay. He must have visibly looked relieved because Jim gave a tight smile.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt him."

John nodded, not knowing what to say.

Jim crossed his legs. He made a small gesture towards the door.

"You can go."

It took John a minute to understand what Moriarty had just said. Go? He gave a questioning look. Jim chuckled.

"I mean it. You can leave. I won't stop you."

John remained seated, not moving. Moriarty's eyes went over him, analyzing him. Jim looked thoughtful.

"Why?" He finally asked.

John gave him a firm look and replied, "The deal was four days. You kept your end of the deal, I'll keep mine."

Jim's face looked mildly shocked, and a little more than just pleased. He quickly composed himself and put on a nonchalant smile.

"Very well."

They stared at each other, not exactly sure how to proceed. Jim's eyes seemed to darken and intensify. John felt his heart speed up at the sight. John stood up and and took a step near Jim, his eyes never leaving the consulting criminals. Jim stood up as well and closed the small gap between them. They were close, close enough to feel each others body heat. Jim's hand went up between them. With two fingers he gently traced John's hot swollen lip. John parted his lips and let his tongue tentatively touch Jim's fingertip. Jim's hips pressed against him as he slid part of his finger into John's mouth. Jim moved his hips slowly, creating a delicious friction between them that made John's cock ache. He sucked gently on Jim's finger. Jim removed his finger and brought his lips to Johns. He brushed against the the bottom one gently, his tongue darting out and tasting the bruised flesh.

Jim kissed him slowly, a burning heat blossoming between them. John wanted to kiss him hard, to press against him roughly, but Jim kept the pace maddeningly slow, his hips keeping the same steady pace, his lips whispering over John's own. He felt light headed. Moriarty's tender kisses sent cold chills down his spine.

John pulled their hips apart far enough to fit his hand between them. He rubbed Jim's erection roughly through his slacks. Jim moaned into his mouth. John hand went up and loosened Jim's tie. Jim shrugged off his blazer and threw it to the side.

They both undressed quickly, making their way to the bed. When both men were completely naked, Jim pushed John onto the bed and fell on top of him. Their lips met again, but with more urgency. John relished the feeling of Jim's hot cock rubbing and brushing against his own. Jim left John's lips and went down his neck, his nose and lips just barely touching his skin. He traced down until he got to John's shoulder.

He softly touched the smooth pink surface of his scar. He kissed the area tenderly, his tongue tracing light patterns on the delicate skin. John pondered over this briefly. It was such a loving, affectionate thing to do. As if each kiss lightly brushed on the bright pink skin was meant to take away the pain that etched it there. Jim lingered on the scar, seeming intent to trace every bit of it with soft kisses.

He eventually pushed himself up, straddling John. He reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Jim pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He twisted the cap off and put a generous amount into his palm. He grabbed John's cock and rubbed the lubricant down the shaft. John's hips thrust up involuntarily at the touch. Jim pumped his erection a few times, getting it slick. He then reached behind himself. John couldn't see, but he knew when he had inserted his finger inside himself because Jim's lips parted and he gave a delicate moan. John watched as the the lean muscles in Jim's arm moved slowly under the pale skin as he worked his fingers into his arse. John felt he could come just by watching him.

Right when John thought he could wait no longer, Jim removed his fingers and slowly raised himself up. He grabbed John's slickened cock and led it to his entrance. John felt the head of his cock push into the ring of muscle. Jim eased his way down, until John was completely in him. Jim shuddered delicately. John couldn't think coherently. He could feel his cock throb inside Jim. His arse was unbelievably tight. Jim rose up a few inches before bringing himself back down. John's hands went to Jim's hips. Jim rode him slowly, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. John admired Jim's form on top of him. His ribs were faintly visible under his pale skin. He could see the muscles in his thighs flex as Jim brought himself up and back down. His cock, a rosy pink, was achingly hard before him. John's mind could think of nothing but how beautiful this man looked right now.

Jim positioned his hips slightly differently when he came down this time. A pleading moan escaped him and his thighs grasped John's sides tightly. Jim picked up his pace, staying in the same position so that John's cock repeatedly rubbed against that same spot. His breathing was quick and shallow. John knew that Jim's orgasm was building.

John grabbed the man's hips firmly. John rolled over, guiding Jim down to the bed so that John was on top of him, making sure to stay inside him. Both men were breathing hard. John placed his forehead to Jim's, waiting for him to gain control of himself. John wasn't ready for him to come. Not yet.

Jim's breathing slowed and his lips met John's. He kissed him back slowly. John carefully pushed himself further into Jim, eliciting a small needy noise from the man. He continued to swirl his tongue in Jim's mouth, thrusting into him achingly slow. Jim wrapped his legs loosely around John's waist. John had to concentrate to keep the pace slow. Jim moaning deliciously into his mouth was not making it an easy task.

Jim lifted his hips slightly so that when John slid into him, his cock rubbed against that small spot that made him shiver. John's slow thrusts repeatedly brushed that spot, making Jim moan desperately.

"Faster." He breathed.

That one pleading word broke all of John's control. His thrusts became quick. He only pulled his cock out partially before bringing himself completely back into Jim.

"Harder, oh fuck." Jim moaned.

John could feel his climax building. He rammed into Jim, his thrusts rough and quick, making sure to hit the same spot over and over.

Jim's thighs tightened around him as his head jerked up from the bed. Jim came with a throaty noise, His nails digging into John's back. John brought himself into Jim one last time before he hit climax as well. Jim raised his head up and locked John into a kiss. John's knees felt weak as he spilled into Jim. Every muscle in his body was tensed with the orgasm. His vision seemed to dim and his head was swimming with a pleasure so acute John felt he might faint.

The feeling slowly passed, leaving John feeling unsteady and drained. He collapsed onto Jim and kissed him, their chests sticking together lightly with Jim's come. John's softening cock slid out of Jim.

He eventually rolled off of Jim and they both laid in bed, a few inches apart, looking at the ceiling. After a few quiet minutes passed Jim spoke up in a delicate voice.

"Sherlock will be home soon."

John turned his head towards Jim. His dark eyes were wide and solemn. Jim's eyes met his.

"He'd never forgive you if he found out about this."

John remained silent. Jim sighed.

"Fate is a twisted and cruel thing."

His dark eyes looked forlorn as he turned his head back towards the ceiling.

"He appreciates you, you know. He may have a hard time showing it, but he does. He needs you."

John rose silently from the bed and grabbed his pants. Jim stayed on his back, lost in thought. John dressed slowly. When he was finished he stood a few feet from the bed, not sure what to do. He swallowed.

"Goodbye."

He made his way to the door. Jim sat up. His wide eyes seemed to shine.

"We're very much alike, Sherlock and I." John looked at the pale man, his dark hair tousled and his mouth set. His eyes had a desperate quality to them, trying to convey what the he couldn't with words. John gave a slight nod. He turned away and knocked on the door. He heard Jim lay down again. John breathed in deeply.

Sherlock was coming home.

* * *

**_A.N._**

**_So this is the first story I've written. I know it isn't the best. John wouldn't be such a softie towards Moriarty. But hey, it was a lot of fun to write. I hope it was equally fun to read. _**


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